


Fernando

by Aicosu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Ballroom Dancing, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Genji and Reaper are there, Jesse flirts with Angela, McMercy, URT, UST, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a study in southern dialogue and narrative ahahah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:45:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicosu/pseuds/Aicosu
Summary: Blackwatch agent Jesse McCree attends an Overwatch fundraiser dinner and meets Angela Ziegler





	Fernando

“Pass me some, will ya?” It wasn’t the first time Jesse asked.

The bottle tightened in the other boy’s grip. “No.”  
  
“Genji, I swear to damn heaven-above, you better--”

“Go,” Genji pulled his arm away from McCree’s outstretched, open fist, rising it to his lips.“--find,” He took a thrown-back, fast drink. “--your own.”

“Fuck you Shimada, pass that weak wine this way before I slam you into that there fancy ass table setting.”

Jesse would be damned if he was going to do this entire ordeal utterly sober. He slid his hand over Genji’s suited, oddly bulky shoulder, gripping the hidden metal of his cybernetics through the fabric and yanking him forward.

Genji grunted, passing the bottle quickly into his other, human hand, “No-- get off--”  
  
“Genji--”

The patent leather of Genji’s shoe squealed against McCree’s as he crowded him, both boy’s suits ruffling and shifting as they pulled and pushed at each other. McCree’s arm shot past the cyborg’s head to try and snatch the wine bottle raised high above them, both practically wrestling now, in the corner of the United Nations Convocation Room that sat three-hundred internationally esteemed guests.

“Genji, give me the damn--”  
  
“Jamma desu, mo itte kure--”  
  
“Just hand me the--”

 _“Madere_ \--stop! Stop-- Papa--! He’s comin-”  
  
The word made Jesse stop entirely, boot hooked on Genji’s knee sliding to the ground as they both turned towards the dinner area to see a figure walking quickly toward them, slicked in black with a hot red tie.

Gabriel Reyes.

_Papa._

Jesse pushed off Genji with a shove, yanking the velvet of his vest down, trying to ignore Genji as the boy pulled his own suit back over his shoulders.

Gabriel didn’t look at anyone else at he came up on them, very much unshaken from his posture as the Commander of Blackwatch. Jesse could almost imagine they were back in base, ready for a debriefing and not stuck in a stuffy fundraising propaganda schmooze snooze.

Gabriel didn’t waste time either.

“Are you fucking drinking?” He asked, his height on Genji looking more pronounced with both men in suits.

“No.” Genji replied, raising the bottle to his lips and gulping it back.  
  
Gabriel’s hand hit the side of Genji’s head so hard the wine sloshed down onto his metal jaw.  
  
Jesse laughed.

“You can’t drink anymore. The doctor told you that.” He reprimanded, snatching the bottle through the string of Japanese expletives. “Shut up. ” The dreaded ‘finger’ came out to point intermittently between them. “I confided in both of you about the scrutiny Blackwatch is facing, and you’re back here fighting like the gangsters you are in front of everyone.”

“Hey now, I was just--”  
  
Gabriel silenced Jesse with a look.  A familiar if unfair one that shook him back down to a seven year old getting caught stealing. A moment passed before Jesse noticed Gabe’s eyes flicker up.

“What did I say about the damn cowboy hat?”

“I know but,” Jesse smiled through accusation, raising a finger to slide over the dark velvet. “This here is a dress hat.”

 _“Sugoi minikoi.”_ Genji snickered.

Jesse glared over at him, not knowing the words but recognizing the tone. “Wanna say that to my face, Shimada?”

Genji’s eyes narrowed, an odd, one-lipped grin appearing on his face that showed some of his teeth. “Suuu-goo-eeeee-”

“Stop this shit, now.” Gabriel ordered. This time in his Commander voice. One used only when they’d been slow on missions. Or when bullets had come too close to their formation. Or a man had gone down. The serious voice.

The boys quieted. It seemed like the sounds of clinking glasses and chatting did too.

“I don’t care if you two want to beat each other black and blue when this is over. But it will--” Gabriel took a step forward until his broad shoulders loomed over both their entire bodies. Jesse had to push the tip of his hat back to keep his gaze of the man. “...it will, _wait._ Until this is over. Unless you want Morrison to have an excuse to send you both back to the shit I pulled you from.”

It was silent again, with both of them finally looking away to voice their unspoken agreement. Jesse looked up at the fancy chandeliers, glinting in the glass building. Genji looked down at the three pairs of shiny black shoes on polished marble.

“None of us want to be here, but we can stand to act like we do if it means keeping our job.” Gabriel continued. Slower this time. Softer. The words _‘us’_ and _‘we’_ and _‘our’_ weren’t lost on Jesse and he looked over at his Commander, noticing the weary downturn of Gabriel’s mouth, near hidden by his facial hair.

Gabriel’s hands wrung the neck of the wine bottle. Jesse swallowed at the sight.

“We’ll be good.” Jesse assured, earning an even gaze from the man.

“Yes _papa_ , we’ll be good.” Genji intoned, with a heavy accent and a rolling drawl. Sarcasm. Jesse tsked. The damn brat never knew when to stop these days.

Gabriel growled in fury.

“If you two are gonna start with that ‘ _papa’_ bullshit again--” Gabriel grabbed Genji’s lapel roughly to bring him closer, feet lifting from the ground. “you better stand up straight.”

Jesse laughed.

“You too, Jesse.”  
  
“I am!” He denied, hurrying to stiffen his shoulders.  
  
“If I was either of your real father, you’d know better.”

“Hey--"

“Tsss ore no tousan--”

“You’d both dress better too.”

“Now that’s not rele-”

“Amari ga tomo-”  
  
“Gabriel!”

They all stopped. Halting, immediately, at the sudden call of the name. A chiming, jovial sound that cut their arguing cold.

Gabriel dropped Genji back down to the ground with a thud, and ignored the boy’s annoyed reaction to twist fast to greet the new comer. His shoulders were so big that both boys had to lean past him to see what stranger the voice belonged to.

And jesus.

“Angela.”

“Gabriel! I didn’t know you’d be here!”

What a stranger it was.

She was wrapped in gold from her head down to her toes. A liberty lady. A pageant girl. Like the ones in rhinestones back home that got sashes for the whitest smiles. Except she was real gold. Not glue and plastic. Wealthy. Not Rich. McCree could tell the difference in the way the sequins fell off her body like a waterfall in sunlight.

She was all hands with their Commander. Her bare wrists resting in his suddenly open palms, letting him draw her in like an old friend. Or a blind man being led by a siren-singer.

“Angela.” Gabriel repeated, and McCree could tell from the man’s eyes that that’s all he could manage to say as he looked at her. She’d reduced him to a word.

“Oh, I’m so happy you’ve come!” Foreign. Had to be. A brit maybe. “I hardly get to see you anymore,” No maybe Swedish, like the tinker-tailor man in Overwatch. Something European. “What with the separate branches and my station across the sea,”

German. He’d bet horses on it. He could hear it in every swirling ‘s’ she let go through her teeth.

“It’s nice to see you, Angela.”

“Yes we should take some time to talk, oh--” Angela paused, her eyes sliding to look at him. Him! McCree felt his knees fall asleep, felt his throat dry, felt-- “Hello, Genji.”

Genji?

He snapped his head to the boy next to him, where the cyborg was looking distractedly across the room.  
  
“Un.” he replied.

Jesse never wanted to smack the boy harder than he did right at that moment.

But Angela didn’t seem offended, continuing to hold onto Gabriel’s hands and smile through conversation, leaving the boys in the dust with their familiarity.

“Genji,” Jesse whispered.

Bored red eyes flickered over the party around them.

“Genji!” His whispered harder, using his elbow to shove the boy’s armored torso.

Genji twisted with an angry look. “What?”  
  
“Genji who is that?” Jesse tried, a bit desperately, leaning in close enough to smell the boy’s hair product. Whispering, “the woman?”  
  
“Who?”

The boy must have had his entire brain replaced with wires, McCree was sure of it. His suited arm came up to wrap around Genji’s neck to drag him into a faux, rough, embrace. “The beautiful woman you horse’s ass-- The woman right in front of our damn faces,”

He tried not to point, instead pushing his shoulder to get them both looking at where Gabriel was speaking, making the blonde laugh gleefully and bat at his shoulder.  
  
“Angela?”

“Shh,” He hushed, quieting him. Genji wrestled slightly but went still as Jesse continued. “Yes, Angela, but who is she? What is she? How does she know our old man?”  
  
Genji looked at him as if Jesse had three heads, something he didn’t appreciate. “You don’t know Angela?”  
  
“Shimada, I would damn like to if you would nearly help me.”  
  
Genji’s laugh wasn’t appreciated either and he tugged his elbow tighter to stifle it, the boy’s metal jaw clipping his skin. He choked, “I-It’s Dr. Ziegler--” and Jesse let him go.

Only to grab him again by the shoulder, whispering straight into his ear. “Wait--hold on, Dr. Ziegler? _Your_ Dr. Ziegler?”  
  
Genji shoved him off. Angela and Gabriel were both distractedly laughing.  
  
“Yeah, what about it?”  
  
Jesse stiffened, hands running over his belt to hold it in his surprise. “You’re telling me that’s Ziegler? Ziegler’s not a man?”  
  
Genji puffed out a scoff but said nothing else, already bored again.

Ziegler. Doctor Ziegler. The head of Medical for all of Overwatch. The sole person responsible for patching everyone up, including Genji’s ungrateful, immature ass.  
  
How could they be one in the same? How could the lovely, sparkling, diamond in the rough be the same, ‘shit doctor’ Genji had outwardly complained about whenever he came back to barracks from physical therapy? How?  
  
How could anyone say such a thing about such a drop dead gorgeous--  
  
“And who might you be?”

What?  
  
“What?” Jesse replied, staring dead-cold into the amber lashed eyes of the prettiest lady he’d ever seen.

“Are you one of Gabriel’s?” She asked, and she let go of his Commander’s hand to turn towards him.

Damn. Get yourself together Jesse, the lady’s asking for a name.

“Y-Yeah, Yes, ma’am, I’m one of Pa’s yeah--”

Dammit.

“Pa!” Angela exclaimed, turning to a very, very, unamused looking Gabriel. “Oh Gabe, that’s so adorable!”

 _Adorable_ . Rough start.  
  
“Angela,” Gabriel tried, a hand gripping the bridge of his nose as the woman clapped her hands together. Jesse felt hot underneath his hat and swallowed thickly.

“I-It’s n-not like that Ma’am I-- I’m just--”  
  
“Do all your boys call you Pa like that in Blackwatch? How endearing they look to you as a fath--”  
  
“No--” Gabe tried.  
  
“No Ma’am, I was just--” Jesse pleaded.  
“Yea, we all call him Papa cause’ he’s an old man who loves to nag!” Genji near shouted, and the three of them looked to see the cyborg’s shit-eating grin. He sloshed back a drink from the wine bottle, and Jesse blanked, trying to remember when the boy had gotten it back. “Isn’t that right papa?”  
  
“Gimme that.” Gabriel snatched the glass back, and Genji near whined. Whined.

“Aw, you see Angela? So strict.” Genji goaded and Jesse reminded himself to wallop the boy as soon as they were back in the barracks.

“He’s right Genji, I told you with the synthetic liver there’s no good filtration system for alcohol in the suit--”

 _“Kuso, omai ga honto ni kaasan ni mitai na-_ -” He was already protesting.

“It's only a joke, ma’am,” Jesse recovered, sure to talk loud enough to make the woman look at him instead of Genji. “Just something me and the other boys cooked up to show the old man here some affection. But as for my name, I’m McCree. Jesse McCree.”

His tipped his hat upward before taking her hand, a smooth trick he had practiced in order to shoot a wink, before leaning down to kiss her knuckles.

She smelled like his mama’s freshly washed linens. Lemon and lavender all soaked in sun.

“Oh!” Angela said over his head and he peeked his eyes to catch her lips curling in a smile around her pink cheeks. “What charmers you have in Blackwatch, Gabriel!”

“I’ll say.”  

He was in trouble for the move. He could hear it in his old man’s voice as it turned icy. And he let go of Angela’s hand a bit faster then he wanted under that anxiety. But nothing could hinder the big swell in his chest of pride from making a woman like that blush for a boy like him.

When he straightened and put his hat back on he caught Genji looking at him with an odd scrunched up expression.

Disgust.

He paid it no mind. High on his recovery, he tipped his brim to the woman “I must say I regret not having needed the services of our good doctor now that I have met her.”

Angela’s pink cheeks framed her laugh, a full and warming sight that made him smile wide. She looked like a piece of jewelry. All sparkling and glittering. He could stare at her for hours.

“That can be arranged, kid.”

His smile died as he caught  the angry expression Gabriel held for him.

“Oh don’t give them a hard time Gabriel! They are surely just enjoying their time out with the rest of us. You Blackwatch boys get so unfairly hidden away.”

She was looking coyly at him. Coyly! Grinning like a satisfied cat. And he was more than willing to be her canary. “That’s right ma’am, just having a little fun.”

“I bet you are.” She intoned. Jesse grinned wide and felt his cheeks flush hot and hard.

But a cough got him looking to his Pa again, and he stilled, nerves racking the back of his neck when he caught the warning look of the century. Damn.

“Let me buy you a drink, Angela,” the Commander redirected, keeping his eyes on the boys, as if daring them to interrupt. “Preferably at the bar.” Gabriel grinned only slightly. “Alone.”

Jesse glowered. Genji swore. He doubted it was for the same reason.

“Why, that sounds lovely Gabriel.” Angela was all hands again with him, her slender arms snaking around the Commander’s arms when he held it out for her. They looked a sight too. All familiar and crisp. A couple of a million bucks, Jesse couldn’t deny it.

“It was nice to meet you Jesse McCree, and be good Genji, you’ve been doing so well.”

Jesse tried to make a show of his farewell, but it didn’t translate through her concern for the cyborg, who had already lost interest and had his back turned to the woman.

Jesse watched his Commander lead the Angel to the bar, the man all grins himself, looking pleased.

It was a dirty play. He respected it, but it was dirty.

“Damn it all.”

He wanted to punch something.

And that's when he remembered; fist flying out to grasp his cohort’s collar and yank him backward.

“Majid--”

“Hey what in seven hells is your goddamn problem Shimada?”

“Let go of me,”

“Aint your momma ever teach you any respect, talking to a real lady like that,”

Metal and flesh curled around his wrists and twisted to throw his arms off. Red eyes leveled at him. “Don't talk about my mother!”

Jesse blew air through his teeth in frustration. Damn, Genji was like a kid.

But he dropped it.

“Sh-she's just a stupid doctor, and, and a bad one!”

The boy had trouble with the sentence, and his balance, trying to point past McCree’s shoulder. But his voice was no less adamant. It never was.

Genji’s eyes were red at the rims now, lip catching on a metal jaw. Still, the statement couldn’t stand.

“Bad? Now how do you reckon she's a bad doctor when she's the head of every damn medic in Overwatch?”  He defended. But… he regretted it instantly, because the ninjas hands immediately began yanking at the tux he was stuffed into and the metal beneath it  

“Because look at me!!” It was a shout. Loud enough to cause a few glances.

McCree swallowed, happy that Gabriel had left now.

Genji was heaving, wobbly. No doubt the newly lightweight liver was not used to even the smallest amount of that wine he stole.

Jesse tried not to look at the people staring at them.

“I am.”  He stepped forward, slowly, hand patting the boy's shoulder. “I am looking at you Genji, now come on, let's find a place to crash and some food to eat,”  
  
  
  
  


Genji didn’t actually make it another half hour.

Which was a good thing and a bad thing.

A good thing because it meant the perfect excuse to get Angela alone once he told Gabe and the old man groused, grabbing a drunk Genji by the scruff to take him back to the hotel.

Bad because it cost him a nice pair of shoes, if you know what I mean. Funny how an actual by-god iron stomach was pretty pathetic in reality.

But there it was anyway, Gabriel's angry/wary/threatening/resigned look shot over his shoulder as he left the Conference with an angry japanese cyborg hanging off his side.

“Perhaps I should go with them. I might be able to make tincture to settle the alcohol in his system.”

“Oh, ma’am, no, please--” Jesse turned on the woman fast, taking off his hat in in one swoop, just to look even more sincere in the face of Angela’s cherub like concern. “Don’t be expending your night on Genji, he, he’s just fine now, I promise. Just doing what most boys do his age.”

That broke her worry into smugness, “Aren't you two the same age?”

“Why Angela, can I call you Angela, ma’am? Why Angela I’ll have you know I am a whole two years older.”

Angela’s smile was bright and her laugh brighter. True tears gleaming at the corners of her glee. Jesse grinned, mouth open in awe of the effect of his own charm. Hot damn.

Yes, this was perfect.

“Oh! You're too much!” She leaned into him to support herself in her laughing, hands slithering up his arm like she had done with Gabriel and heating him from the outside in.

 _I could be more._  He wanted to say it, nearly did, but bit his tongue through his smirk, because he had his head on straight and wanted to play this game right. And Angela Ziegler was a doctor and a lady. A big city type. The real deal.

Instead he let her recuperate as they stood, hers and Gabriel’s drinks abandoned there on the the bar beside them.

He picked up what he assumed was the Commander’s glass, smiling down at the blonde and stepping into the man’s shoes as he sloshed the ice around in the tumbler.

“So tell me, how is it you know my old man so well anyway?” He asked, opening conversation before taking a drink and Fuck! Fuck, fucking-christ on high and hell below, what the fuck? What the fuck was Gabe drinking; a ten year old truck’s oil change?

“Are you alright?” Angela asked, her hand pressing on his shoulder, because if he looked how he felt then he was obviously bleeding out of his nose and eyes as he sputtered and slid the drink back to the bar.

“Oh me? I’m fine. Mighty fine,” He lied through his bitter-soul-crushed-tasting teeth.

She didn’t believe him, he could see that in the cute curled corners of her lips, but she let him have his dignity.

“Gabriel and I both work in Overwatch of course.” She finally answered, “In fact, he was my original referral into it. He was at my induction too.”

“Seems like Gabe does most of the referring around here.” He said, thinking of himself and Genji. Outliers, he had thought, but even Angela? A woman clearly cut from a different cloth. But then…

“So why ain’t you holding up with Blackwatch then? Don’t like getting too dirty, Doctor?”

Angela’s eyes widened before she narrowed them with another of those cat-eats-bird smiles. “I actually did many Blackwatch missions, so many Gabe requested I transfer, before you were hired, Jesse.”

He had to slide his hand along the bar at that, past her so he could lean forward and look at her level. Jesse! His head cocked and he felt his insides roll like a happy horse in some hay. How was his name off her lips not the nicest thing he ever heard?

“That right?”

“Why, yes.”

“So is it me getting hired keeping your pretty face from gracing us then?” That one was forward, but Angela did not seem to mind nor did the flattery phase her.

“Not at all, but medical isn’t as needed for sufficient enough strike teams that complete objectives without enemies even knowing they were there in the first place.”

A fair, obvious point. And Jesse knew behind his simple inquiries that an agent like Angela was more suited for the public defensive. She _looked_ Overwatch, if that meant anything. But still, Gabe had taken her on enough to want her permanently and _that_ meant something. And the Doctor sounded willing. He thought of their grasping hands and cheeky whispering earlier. He had to wonder what really stood in the way of that.

He’d bet some money on a certain Strike Commander being the knot in those reins.

“So what’s a man to do when he gets a little hurt out there in the big bad world?” McCree feigned complaining, hand to his heart, waiting for the response he was hoping for by setting her up to--

“You _boys_ ,” He grinned at the change. “are always welcome to come and see me upstairs should you need too.”

There we go. A predicted invitation and one he planned on taking, no doubt about that. But he wanted to push a more too. Leave an impression, leave em hanging, his mother used to say his father used to say.

“But what about when we’re on the field! What’s a poor soul like me to do when he needs aide at say… a Conference?”

She was laughing again, obviously catching on, lipstick staining the crook of her wrist as she tried to stifle the chuckle. She played his obvious game anyway and he was grateful.

“And what,” Her hands were back again but this time they shot up his vest, one tugging a his bolo and the other flicking the curve of his chin, “ails you tonight, cowboy?”

Oh! Hot! Damn! What a lady! His face, sweltering under his hat. All his clothes suddenly way too tight. He floundered for a moment “W-well. Un-”

He would be mad for being thrown off his perfect track so far if it hadn’t been done in the most endearingly classy HOT way possible. It was like steering a luxury train off the tracks but into paradise.

He recovered easily per her encouragement and took it as a green light to be bolder.

“Well doc, I tell you what, my heart seems tighter than usual,” He said, taking a step forward, the only one between them, one that put him squarely a head above her, arm sliding along the bar until it crowded her shoulder and his fingers played with the bare skin there. “my temperature might be rising too, cause I feel feverish in this suit,” He gave her a fake shudder that he followed with a wink, “And my breath seems to have left me the moment you walked in.

It was all true actually, but by the look of her, chin-tipped, pink-flushed, lip-puckered face, he might as well have been describing Angela instead.

Lid hazey, her hand found a warm spot on his belly and slid up his vest to his shoulder and Jesse had to steady his whole body like he did his shooting hand from firing up and throwing the woman over his shoulder like men did to their wives in a hogtie race at the county fair.

He had to remind himself he was at an annual international conference.

“I think I have a cure for that Mr. McCree, but I keep it back at my hotel room under my pillow. If you want treatment you’ll have to escort me home tonight. I can’t--”

Wow, fuck this fancy party. And fuck _Jesse_ , Angela could call him _Mr. McCree_ for the rest of his wretched days if it made his dick jump and his heart skip like that.

He hadn’t even heard the rest of it. Was she still talking? Had he really pulled this off? Had he charmed a woman with multiple degrees and a face like moonlight to ask him to her boudoir? To sleep with him?

His heart was bursting he hadn't even realized he hand has sneaked up to push a lock of his hair back into his hat.

He caught it, because first of all, that was the sweetest gesture any woman had given him since never, and secondly, he had to make sure and keep playing this game right, not take the easy man’s way out for the lucky reward.

“Oh, little lady,” She had called him Mr. McCree like his dad had been called, so he got to call her _little lady_ now, like his dad had called his mom, older or not. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel just hearing that. But would you mind indulging a country boy a more southern remedy?”

Angela’s smile faltered a little, but her hand squeezed his and her eyes didn’t leave his face so he hoped she saw his pleading pout.

She did.

“What sort of remedy is that?”

“Why, a little dancing of course.”

“Dancing?”

She turned and they both looked past the bar to the stage across the dinner tables, where a strings band was screeching out some whiny noise.

The floor there was empty.

It was no ho-down, he had to admit. But he was the gentlemen his momma had taught him to be, and hed be damned if he wasn't going to at least dance with a woman as sweet and smart as Angela before sleeping with her.

“Why not? Nothing makes a house call better than a little more… delayed anticipation.” He said, being sure to ask for this and accept her offer to leave with her tonight at tge same time.

He waited, feeling weirdly more anxious about this answer than any sign he may have been looking for in order to sleep with her.

She frowned, turning to consider him.

No, maybe this was stupid. What sort of ametuer romantic fool was he? Looking a prize gift horse in the mouth and asking for a carnival pony instead-

“Alright. A doctor can't say no to all every treatment.”

“I promise, one song and then we do things your way doc.”

  
  
  


Telling the band (orchestra, they corrected) to put some swing into their step was about as awkward as you could imagine. But hopefully, with the switch of one techno violin to a digital fiddle (omnics), they got the idea.

He took off his hat, because that's what you do, and lead her to the small floor before the stage, in front of a few politician type still sitting with their wine and crackers. A few people seemed confused as to what they were up to, but Angela did not seem to care so Jesse paid it no mind.

The song was still kinda slow. The fiddle lead the tune, but it was still leading a bunch of mellow whiny violins like a cheery bird leading a bunch of dead fish.

So it was more of a waltz.

But that was fine by him. Jesse McCree could waltz.

He slid his shiny cowboy boot up to her glittery heels, thigh sliding into the crook of her legs (alright that was more of a tango stance, but he couldn't help himself) and took her hands up to glide her across the floor.

It surprised her. He could tell from the way her body tensed around him, before letting loose a loud laugh that had her craning that pretty neck backward.

He grinned wide.

She was nothing in his arms, light and airy and easy to carry through the motions. Not that he had to. Angela Ziegler could waltz too.  

With his hat off, she could rest her head and her updone hair onto his shoulder, breathing and laughing into his neck while her fingers splayed in his or curled around the straps of his vest. But none of that was as distracting as how good she was at this.

Of course she was, it wasn't surprising, but it had been a very, very long time since Jesse had danced like this let alone with a partner who was far above even his level. She moved like this was her job. Effortless and precise, trusting and easy. It felt like they'd known each other years. Were married even, with how her leg lifted when he spun her, countering her balance to pivot as he did, laughing with joy like it was their anniversary and hed remembered.  

Jesse was laughing too, but soon he wasn't in the conference anymore. And he wasn't with Angela either.

He was with momma again in their little house on a Sunday, scuffling on the worn tile to their little radio as it cackled out fancy chords and she hummed along.

Shed taught him then, leading him a few steps before he lead her back to show her he'd got it, and she laugh. “Mhmm just like that, Jesse.”

He’d whistle to the songs later, when he was older, and even later just before she'd died, he’d sing.

But he'd never gotten to dance with her at this age, at this height, as a man. If he closed his eyes, he almost got to now.

“Where'd you learn to dance like this Jesse?”

And for a moment he forgot where he was and answered the wrong place in time.

“From you, momma.”

But Angela just laughed as he dipped her, coming back to the present with a wide grin and soft twinkle in his eye that was not, in no way, tears.

He blamed Angela for smelling like country linen and clean laundry.

When he righted them and the sad song winded down, she was all cozied up on his body. A full woman molding into the nooks and crannies of him like buttercream on warm bread.

“See now, my heart and fever is all right as rain, just like that,” He told her, tipping her head to see her proper smile.

“Well we can't have that.” She said, kissing him.

Kissing him!

His eyes still stared wide at the blurry vision of blonde in his view, as heat and warmth and wet, seeped into his lips.

Shit!

His arms rose immediately, grabbing hold of Angela’s slim shoulders as if to get a better grip on what was happening. Not that he didn’t know how to fucking kiss, he just-hadn’t-- wasn’t expecting to be moving this fast, certainly not with the lead doctor of Overwatch.

Still, Angela was persistent, lips heady enough to part his own so her tongue could say hello to his. And her devious little hands, skilled in medical procedures as they must be, went to work on him like he was her next procedure; her fingers smoothing up his back and around his hips before planting themselves pointedly on his belt.

“Ah, wow, doc, you got me--” He managed to get out as she released him to take in a breath before she shut him up again. Her eagerness was endearing enough that it tightened his heart and made him laugh, and his chuckling freed him again, “You got me right where ya want me, don’t you?”

“Not exactly.” She smiled up at him, looking like the devil come to collect.

McCree swallowed, understanding her meaning without elaboration.

He had been about to rebuke her, honestly. There was pride in him and a longing that wanted to have held out. To have played a tease and led her along to have her later. To prove to himself that he could make a woman like her chase him. And to show her that he was worth chasing. Worth taking notice of. Maybe even win her over into something longer… something… well something he could keep. Could have. Like he could have her. Like they could maybe have each other.

He swallowed again. Yeah. That.

But he would be a damn, stupid, back alley, egotistical fool to look her into her eyes like she was looking at him now and say no. And he was no fool.

“Well.” Jesse said, no smile on his face, nothing but serious consideration as he pulled off his hat and tipped up her chin. He placed the velvet felt delicately on her golden crowned head. Hell, she deserved it after tonight. “Why don’t you show me where I’m supposed to be then?”

She smiled, his hat sliding to lid her eyes. The next kiss was soft, gentle. Promising.

They grinned at each other like a couple of teenagers.

McCree lifted an arm up, spun her again towards the edge of the dance floor and they made their way to the exit with chuckles and Oh--shit, fuck--Oh fuck, hell, christ and jesus and all their holy angels--fuck--shit.

_Papa._

Fuck, fuck, fuck--

“Gabriel!” Angela laughed. McCree relieved his hands from her immediately.

Gabriel Reyes didn’t answer. Didn’t smile. He was looking straight into McCree eyes as he approached and Jesse did a quick math problem in his head, trying to figure out if the Commander would put his career and all of Overwatch and Blackwatch combined in danger by straight murdering Jesse right there on the Conference floor in front of hundreds of witnesses.

McCree wagered that yes, he would, just as Gabe came to a halt between them.

“How’s Genji?” Angela asked. Either completely oblivious, or unperturbed by Gabriel’s obvious seething. She didn’t even seem embarrassed by the proximity Gabe must have seen between him and her just seconds ago.

It was… terribly quiet. Gabe didn’t answer and Jesse shuffled on his feet to a nonexistent song, trying to look everywhere in the entire room.

Angela continued smiling. “I know he can be a handful in this state even regardless of alocohol.

“Angela.” Gabe finally answered, turning to take the woman’s hand and smiling at her. “He’s fine. He has the best doctor in the world to thank for that.” The charm gave a second for Jesse to breath whilst she giggled girlishly, cheeks turning pink beneath his cowboy hat.

Just a second though.

“I came back for Jesse.”

“Oh, not right away I hope.” Angela says, turning to look at him. Jesse can’t describe how strange it is to be looked at with seething hate and unabashed adoration at the same time.

“Yes. Right. Now.” The words are said through teeth. Gabriel’s hands drop Angela’s in order to reach out and snatch up a fistful of his suit. He’s yanked inward and McCree is reminded just how much bigger his Commander is then him. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

“W-well,” Jesse begins, dodging the glare and the tightness of Gabe’s arms around him to glance to Angela.

Sweet, beautiful, sunlight haired, pink edged, soft, giggling, Angela. Looking beautiful under his hat. She looks reminiscent of something she might look like later. Happy and flushed. Wearing his clothes and oh… lord… fuck… that’s a hard thing to say goodbye too-- it just kills him.

But not literally. Like Gabe might.

“Yes’m. That’s right,”  
  
“Oh… what a shame.”

McCree want’s to melt into a puddle at the sight of Angela’s downturned face. That little curled pout that says that she had been excited for him, that the dance had really done something.

But the little twinkle in her eyes hints that maybe… she’d been a little expectant of this.

Why… this… devil of a woman.

She smiles bright suddenly and McCree can see the fire inside her like an unbroken horse that had been waiting to buck you off at the right moment all along. “That’s too bad! He’s been such a delight.”

She laughs.

McCree curses under his breath but grins wide. What a woman.

“I bet.” Gabe sighs and he’s pushing McCree to walk backward. “I’ll see you Angela.”  
  
“Wait, Jesse-- your hat--”

Jesse struggles to be smooth over Gabe’s arm, “N-no darling, you-you keep it!”

“No.” Gabe growls, his other hand snatching the hat off her head and smashing down onto Jesse’s.

He sighs, pulling it taut as he watches her grow a few steps away, then more and more, as Gabriel practically drags him through the crowded dining room towards the lobby, towards the exit.

She shimmers in her gold dress like a distant star bright in the wide open dark of farm.

And if Jesse closes his eyes, he can still smell sweet lavender and laundry citrus from the edges of his hat.


End file.
